Artemis leaned back, steadying himself with his hands on Cormac’s knees as the ground trembled, leaves rustling overhead. Artie had an image of quinces falling, the harder the ground shook, and a breathless laugh was chased by a breathless moan. He ground down hard against Cormac and his chastity belt, spurting over his brother’s bloodied hand.

Artie shivered, still rocking in time with Cormac as he waited for the world to right itself. "Maker, Cormac," he panted, finally looking down and trying not to grimace at the mess he’d made of his brother.

"Do I look—" The rest of the sentence was lost to another intemperate howl, as Anders carved at Cormac’s skin. "Do I look as good as you remember?" he panted, bringing his hand up to his lips to lick it clean.

Anders squeezed Cormac’s nipple tightly, even as his other hand drew the knife across more skin. A bright blue spark leapt from his fingers, followed by three more, in a fairly precise rhythm, and Cormac followed his brother over, screams quick to his lips, as he pulsed against the metal of that unholy contraption around him. Anders had played him just right — anticipating the end from the instant he took the knife. Credit where it was due, he now owed Anders five silver. He hadn’t thought it would be possible.

Artemis grinned down at his brother, at his face and not the matted mess that was now his chest, and shook his head in amazement. Anders looked nothing less than smug as he wiped the blade off in the grass.

"You look, you depraved bastard," Artie said fondly, "like a mess." He brushed a strand of hair from Cormac’s face. He could count on one hand the number of people he would tolerate such a mess on — tolerate being, perhaps, a strong word — and they were all in this garden. Artie bent to kiss Cormac, twisting his body and stretching his neck so that he wouldn’t get any filthier. "I can’t believe you got blood on me, you ass."

Fenris was less than surprised when Artemis stood up, shimmying out of his trousers and kicking them to the side. And, suddenly, he understood why his husband had brought them over to the pond.

"Oh, I’m depraved? Me?" Cormac protested, half-sitting, before Anders shoved him flat again. "You’re the one made a mess of me!" He ran a hand across his bloody chest and flicked it at his brother.

Anders shoved Cormac down, again, healing magic spreading out from his fingers. "Andraste’s gloriously bouncing bosom, Cormac, stay down until I’m done with you! You’re usually better about it than this!"

"You’re usually on top of me," Cormac reminded him, finally giving up, until Anders let him up. He purred as he sat, carefully pressing a kiss to Anders’s lips, making sure none of the blood ended up on Anders’s feathered coat, which would be a nightmare to clean. "It’s a strong encouragement." With a sly smile and a wink at Anders, Cormac got up and wrapped himself around his brother, before sliding down into the water, which reddened around him.

Artemis made a disgruntled sound, kicking water in Cormac’s face before sliding in after him. "Ugh! Cormac!" Artie whined, paddling over to a part of the water Cormac hadn’t turned red. "And yes, you’re the depraved one. It was your idea!"

Fenris shook his head as Artemis splashed his brother some more. "Hawkes," he said in the same tone he usually said, ‘mages’. "So who do you think put the belt on him?" he asked Anders.

"I’d really almost put coin on Izzy, at this point." Anders shook his head. "I don’t know anyone else who would both conceive of that and be able to get past the dog. I mean the d—" He stopped in the middle of the word and looked at Cormac, still talking to Fenris. "The dog’s Anton’s. Anton could get past the dog. I keep pushing off the idea of it being one of the Hawkes, because they’ve been putting up with him screaming bloody murder for decades, but Cullen hasn’t. I bet it’s Anton. I bet Cullen flipped out, and it’s Anton." Anders paused again. "But, if that’s the case, why haven’t any of us been on the wrong end of some late-night templar powers? I know how Cullen is. He has a nightmare, and the whole house eats a barrage of smite and silence."

"Who said he was asleep for it?" Fenris asked. "I am still leaning toward Isabela, however. That particular flavour of revenge does seem to be in keeping with her tastes, though I do wonder what he did to deserve it, as certain as I am that I do not want to know.

Cormac rinsed himself clean, working clots of blood out of his chest hair. Not a mark on him — not that he’d expected anything different, from Anders. Still— "Hey, Artie, can you believe it? We could start fresh, already. Look at this! It used to take me days to do this, myself!"

"You’re welcome!" Anders called out.

"You’ve bled on me enough for one day," Artemis huffed. "And for that, next time I’ll carve something obscene into your chest." Artie paddled back over to Cormac now that he was suitably clean. "Maybe my name, in big letters." He eyed Cormac. "No, you’d probably let me. Fenris’s name, in big letters."

Fenris heard his name and looked over from his conversation with Anders. "What."

"Please don’t carve my name on him, either. I don’t want people getting the wrong idea." Anders shook his head. "What about Aveline? ‘Property of Aveline Vallen. Please return to owner.’ She’d kill us all, but it would be worth it."

"She would kill you. Especially because I’m not providing any shields, if you do that." Cormac turned a baleful eye on Anders, who tried very hard to look like he wasn’t giggling.

Artie didn’t both to hide his cackles. "Oh, I like that!" he said. "That’s a splendid idea. Anders, could I borrow your knife again?" Artie held out his hand and waggled his fingers, his grin devilish.

"No." Cormac glared between the two of them, jaw squared. "No and no. Have I said no? Because no. I don’t care how good you make it feel, the answer is still no. The answer is not just ‘no’, it’s ‘I know where you sleep’."

"But, brother-dear," Artemis singsonged. With magic under his fingers, he pulled Cormac towards him slowly.

Fenris shook his head. "I liked it better when they were talking about putting in fruit trees."

"Don’t you ‘brother-dear’ me, you little shit," Cormac hissed, jabbing a finger into Artie’s ribs. "You are not carving Aveline’s name into my skin. Unlike another brother of ours, I do not belong to the Captain of the Kirkwall Guard." His fingers darted across Artie’s skin, prodding and pinching.

"If Anton belongs to her, she’s sure lending him out," Anders joked, before pulling a bit of bandage out of his bag and using it to wipe a few blood spots off his hands.

Artie squeaked, twisting under Cormac’s hands. "Stop!" he laughed. Cormac’s hands found that sensitive spot beneath his ribs, and Artemis jerked and pushed him away, more forcefully than intended. Cormac went careening back into a tree, and though no quinces fell, a few acorns plonked off his head and into the water.

Artemis cringed. "Sorry!"

Cormac coughed and staggered to his feet. "You’re lucky I’m me," he said, with a laugh, lowering the shield to shake the water off himself. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, one spell after another, until it hung much as it had before he’d gotten into the water. Pausing, he looked down at himself. "Wet leather," he groaned, after a moment, knowing there was no way he could get enough of the water out of it, that close to his skin, with that much metal attached.

"Andraste’s knickers, Cormac," Anders sighed, but he hadn’t thought of it either — not even after those times he’d had to put Howe back together after long, sweaty hikes along the road to Amaranthine, that summer. "I can’t stop it, but I can fix it." He shrugged.

Cormac groaned again, more loudly, and then reached for his robes. "I’ll take what I can get."

Fenris almost looked sympathetic. "That is going to be uncomfortable." He handed Artemis his clothes as he stepped out of the water.

Artemis was still inspecting his trousers for stains when a messenger cleared his throat at the edge of the garden. "I’m looking for a Messere Cormac?" he said, looking above their heads as Artie scrambled to pull his trousers on. How long had that boy been standing there?

"That would be this gorgeous bastard right here," said Anders, snaking an arm around Cormac’s waist. "I take it Varric sent you?"

"Yes, messere. He wanted me to tell you that ‘The queen has arrived’."

"Queen?" Artie asked, brows furrowed. "We were expecting a queen?"

Cormac finished straightening his robe, batting at Anders’s hands, every time they were in his way. "Izzy. I need to see Izzy about the locks." He turned back to the messenger. "We’ll be right there. Thanks."

Anders, whose pockets were still where he expected them to be, tossed the messenger a coin.

Izzy laughed. Not the choked off little snickers Fenris had expected — although it had started that way — but full-on crying gales of laughter. "Oh Maker, Cormac," she said to the mage in question, robes hiked up over his hips. Her thumb wiped at the corner of her eye. "That’s a good look for you, you know. Leather and metal." She purred and threw a wink at Fenris.

"Personally, I think he looks better naked," Anders replied. "Or at least with the leather somewhere other than his crotch. I was using that."

"I’ll bet," said Isabela, biting her lip against a smirk. "Thought that’s really less of an issue when you have a key." With a flick of a wrist, Izzy pulled a key from what looked like thin air and dangled it from her fingertips.

"I knew it!" Fenris declared, pointing at her. "So it was you!"

"Me?" Isabela pressed a hand to her chest and put on her best shocked look, before she burst out laughing again. "Now, why would it be me?" A few more choked off cackles, and she went on. "Anton. He’s very upset with you, you know."

"Me?" Cormac echoed. "What did I do!?"

Isabela didn’t answer, directly, just reached into a drawer and tossed Anders a ball gag.

He caught it, figured out what it was, and dropped it. "No."

"It’s not for you, Sparklefingers." Isabela hefted herself onto the edge of her dresser, to sit, then cocked a thumb at Cormac. "Let’s just say Cullen’s been sleeping in his office, and there’s a bit of sibling… rivalry? Envy? It’s Kirkwall, you know. You’re lucky he didn’t set demons on you, by accident."

This time it was Artemis choking back a laugh. He coughed into his fist, composing himself, and added, "Sound carries in that house. I almost invested in earplugs once or twice while I lived there. I’m… less than surprised, now that I think about it." He didn’t quite look anyone in the eye as he said that, though he could feel Fenris’s wry look.

"Told you," Anders said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Fenris. "The dog. That should have been our first clue."

"But you still knew about it," Artemis pointed out, addressing Izzy.

"Of course I knew. Where do you think he got the thing? Granted, I didn’t know it was going on Cormac, but this is much more entertaining." Isabela beckoned Cormac with the curl of one finger. "Come here, mage-shoulders. Let’s unsheathe your staff, shall we?"

"I don’t know how much you’ll get out of that staff, after what Anders just did to me," Cormac complained, canting his hips forward, so Isabela could reach the locks.

"Are you whining about that?" Anders laughed. "You were definitely not whining at the time. Whimpering, maybe, but not whining."

"Ooooh!" Isabela shivered with delight, unfastening one of the locks. "What did you do?"

"Let’s just say I’m lucky I didn’t get us both arrested for blood magic," Anders’s chuckle was a little less proud, this time.

"Well, if you wore him out, I guess it’s going to take a little longer to pay me back for this little rescue." Isabela winked at Artemis. "Maybe you want to be getting home, before I get this off him. Don’t worry; I’ll take good care of your brother. … And the healer, if he’ll let me."

"The healer has had this conversation with you before," Anders drawled.

Artemis cleared his throat and patted Cormac on the shoulder. "Enjoy the freedom, big brother," he said. "We’ll be at home if you need us." He glanced at Fenris and, seeing the look on his face, added, "Well. We’ll be home after a drink or two, since we’re here." He wasn’t thrilled with the Hanged Man’s filth, but at least it was filth he was familiar with.

Izzy waited until they’d left before she unfastened the other lock. "Maybe I should have invited them to the party, if the healer isn’t going to play," she said with a teasing pout in Anders’s direction.

"The healer is going to heal," Anders muttered, dropping into the chair on one side of the room. "You first. Then don’t break him too horribly."

Isabela waited as she glowed, first green, then blue, and then Anders flicked a hand at her. "I’m not sure there is a ‘too horribly’ with this one."

"Why would I join, when I can just watch, and touch far fewer questionable things?" Anders tugged at the laces on his trousers without making any move to get up. "And I’m sure I can turn you into raw meat, again, when we get home."

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Ywain Penbrydd writes mountains of crappy fic. These stories are now written here, where he has the ability to filter them for suck before releasing them into the wild. Occasionally, he also makes icons, banners, and other art-garbage.

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